Oh, the body—that untied bond!
Sometimes eyelashes set aflame
are enough—
to make even silence edge over
into another time
within another space,
where words grow heavy
yet somehow also light,
both fixed like a barb
that has already found its mark
and then set loose
to music and to dance.
Even a murmur,
however delicate and faint,
moors him and her
to a poignant depth,
there to mount
and ride the steepest waves—
where all who drift and dwell
can no longer remain
uninspired,
bodies themselves
begin to lend
an accidental,
unknotted grace—
along with a leg
lifted and drawn
high around his back.
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